Chapter Sixteen
R ocky pulled Gia’s fresh change of clothes out of the striped tote and laid them on the end of the emergency room bed. He attempted to wake her. “Gia,” he said and jostled her arm. “We need to get you dressed. They’re kicking us out of here so you can go home and rest.”
“I’m awake,” she said, but didn’t open her eyes. “My mouth is full of cotton.”
“That’s the medicine. Here’s your water.”
She bolted to a sitting position. Her eyes were wild with fear like a feral cat he once had trapped under his grandmother’s porch. “I said no drugs. My body can’t take any more drugs.”
“Settle down, Gia. Remember what the nurse said? It was nothing more than an over-the-counter-strength antihistamine to help you rest. You refused the anti-anxiety meds they offered you.”
“I remember.” She drank the whole bottle of water and rummaged for her clothes. “What time is it?”
“Ten a.m.”
“My parents are expecting us for brunch.”
Rocky tossed aside the hospital gown she’d shed and dropped her sandals on the floor beside the bed. “I delayed that.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them you weren’t feeling well and that they should go ahead and eat and we’d see them after. That will buy us some time to get home and figure out what you want to say to people.”
She stopped moving. Her shirt hung around her neck as if she were suddenly too tired to find the armholes.
“What is there to say? My baby is gone and it’s my fault.”
“No, don’t say that. You heard what the doctor said. Nothing you did or didn’t do caused this. At this stage, something was developmentally wrong, and your body is taking care of itself.”
“I know what everyone says,” she snapped. She fought with her shirt. “It’s a natural occurrence. The pregnancy was not viable, whatever that means. Go home and rest, there’s nothing more we can do here. Let us know if you run a fever or start hemorrhaging. Follow up with your doctor. No reason why you can’t try again.”
She looked as though she wanted to jump from the bed. He rolled close enough to block her.
“Stop right there. The nurse is coming back to help you up,” he said. “You could be woozy. They have to put you in a wheelchair to take you out of here.”
She fell back against the plastic pillow and covered her eyes. “How do women bear this, Rocky?”
Darned if he knew. It hurt on every level and there was nothing he could do. He fought back his own tears and reached out to comfort her.
Gia squeezed his hand. “Did you hear what that nurse said?”
“Which one?”
“The one who brought me that blanket from the warmer. She said this process was going to be like having a bad period. She was nice and all, but a bad period? Yesterday my baby was a person. A pink, fig-sized person with a beating heart. And now she’s a bad period ? What am I supposed to do with that? When anyone else dies in this hospital the chaplain comes, but I lost my baby in the ER while a drug addict had a bad trip next door and there’s nothing, Rocky. There’s nothing. She’s just... gone .”
“Listen to me, Gia. We don’t need a chaplain. We have each other and we have our faith. We can pray. We can pray right now.”
She pulled the sheet to her eyes and used it to soak up tears as she nodded. “Yes, pray.”
“We’re going to pray,” he said again. “And then we’re going to get out of here and rest and talk to our parents and pray some more. I have your instructions and prescriptions to help you relax and sleep—”
“I don’t want them.”
“That’s fine. They’ll be there if you need them.”
“All I need is out of here.”
“I know. We’re going.”
She tugged her shorts up her legs and squirmed in the bed until she’d snapped them closed. She eased off the side. “Where is that nurse?”
“Don’t get up,” he said again.
“I’m not getting up. I’m sliding into your lap. I can’t stay in this bed another minute.”
She landed in his arms, pale and unstable, clinging to him.
“You should pray now,” she said. “But don’t bother telling me about God’s will or about Romans 8:28 and how all things work together for good. I know all that, but I don’t want to hear it today.”
“Shhh... I know.” He stroked her hair and ran his hands along her cold, bare arm.
“Rocky?”
“Yes?”
“Nothing has ever hurt this bad.”
“It’s a loss, Gia. We were excited and something bad happened. It’s sad.”
“I miss that little pink fig,” she sniffed. “It surprises me how much.”
“Why?”
“We hardly knew each other.”